A Man Out Of Time
by InvincibleArcReactor
Summary: Steve Rogers is not yet used to being decades into the future, and he still isn't over Peggy yet. But, with the help of the Avengers and with the help of a waitress named Joanna, Steve thinks the future might not be so bad after all . . .
1. Chapter 1

Steven Rogers sat at the desk in his apartment, his head in his hands, staring down at the pile of papers sitting before him, the way he spent nearly every morning since being thawed out. Peggy's file was laid out before him, lying atop Howard Stark's, and the smiling photograph of Peggy taunted him and haunted him with everything a photograph could. Immediately, Steve was filled with an immense feeling of remorse, depression, and above all, loneliness. Steve's aqua blue eyes flicked from the paper to the phone sitting on the dresser by the window, and he bit his lip hesitantly and nervously before looking back at the paper with the same expression. The paper marked Peggy as retired but still alive, living in Merryweather, England. It even listed a phone number she could be reached at during all hours of the day and night. Should he call? A part of him - a very large part of him, always present and tugging at the back of his mind - demanded he call her, just to hear her voice one more time. But what if she didn't even sound the same? It had been seventy years, after all. But what did it matter what she sounded like? No matter what, she would always be the Peggy that Steve truly loved, after all these years - always. But she has a life now. A family, a husband. Yes, that was true. Steve wouldn't be surprised if she had given up on him returning and had gotten married and had children - to be perfectly honest, he preferred it that way, so long as she was happy. So it was all coming down to one question, the same one he always mulled over; should he call her, and find closure for himself, and a peace of mind? Or save himself the risk of bringing up painful memories and uprooting Peggy's life?

With frustration and loneliness nearly engulfing him, Steve quickly stood and rushed into his bedroom, grabbing his old brown jacket and his wallet before heading out into the streets, breathing in the somewhat fresh air outside. The air itself was crisp with the sense of upcoming autumn, and the leaves of trees were already turning delicate shades of orange, yellow, and brown. People rushed by in jackets and coats, though if you stayed in the sun, you wouldn't need either. Running a hand through his blonde hair, Steve began walking aimlessly in a random direction, like he did most days. He didn't have much to do anymore. He didn't need a job - Nick Fury made sure everything he ever needed was paid for - and he didn't have any friends. It wasn't that he didn't want friends, but simply that he didn't think he could ever keep up with the modern age. To be perfectly honest, he was still getting used to being seventy years in the future. Everything felt hazy and blurry, as if he was in some kind of nightmare he couldn't wake himself up from. Some days he wondered if maybe he had been rescued from the ice and was still in the past, but in a coma of some sort, and dreaming everything up while Peggy sat bedside and held his hand. He didn't like to think of that too often. Putting his hands in his pockets and not really trying to hide his melancholy mood, he made his way down the street until he found himself standing in front of a lovely little diner that reminded him so much of home, of the Brooklyn he was used to. Steve walked into the diner, immediately greeted by the familiar sense of burgers and sodas, and he made his way to a red booth, taking his seat and relaxing deep into the plastic chair. He wasn't really hungry, but he couldn't allow himself to just stay in his apartment all day and mope around.

Later, if he felt like it, he would go to the nearby gym. Steve shifted uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly aware of the many pairs of eyes resting on him. He wasn't used to getting stares - to him, it always felt like they knew he didn't belong in this time. He sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, disregarding what he had been taught; that elbows were never allowed on the table during a meal. He hung his head slightly, blue eyes cast down at the gray table below him, wondering if he would ever get used to being in this time. He wasn't completely sure if he wanted to, but that wasn't up for discussion, now was it? He was stuck in this time, whether he liked it or not. Startling him out of his thoughts, a plastic menu was placed in front of him, and he looked up at the waitress with what he knew was an exhausted expression. She was looking at him expectantly with big, light green eyes that sparkled, and Steve realized she must've said something. "Excuse me?" He said quietly, his cheeks tinting the slightest shade of pink. "I asked if you'd like anything to drink." The waitress said, trying her hardest not to laugh. "Oh." Steve mumbled, embarassed. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Just a soda, please."

The girl raised her eyebrows at him curiously - well, it wasn't really fair to call her a girl. She looked maybe only a year or so younger than Steve was, in all reality. "You sure? The burgers here are pretty good." The girl continued, picking up the menu from in front of Steve. Steve bit his lip thoughtfully before smiling a bit and giving in. "A burger actually sounds pretty nice. I'd love one, if you don't mind." He smiled at her, the first genuine smile he'd ever given anyone in a very long time. "Comin' right up." The girl said, giving him a wink and a smile before walking away with a spring to her step. Steve looked back at the table, folding his hands in front of them and playing mindlessly with his thumbs. He was absolutely bewildered at the fact that he genuinely smiled at anyone. In under thirty minutes, the girl had come back, bringing his food and drinks, and he smiled and thanked her politely. She grinned back at him, seemingly surprised by his manners, before walking away. Steve decided to leave a tip larger than what was needed. He left early enough to go to the gym, but he didn't really want to anymore. He felt more at peace than he usually was, and for once, he really felt like relaxing. So he decided to sit in the cafe for a little longer, smiling and waving at people passing him and giving him funny looks.

About an hour into waiting there, the waitress popped up beside Steve's booth, smiling down at him with a hand on her hips. "Waiting on a hot date?" She said in a joking manner. Steve smiled a bit and shook his head. "No, ma'am." He answered, laughing a bit. Glancing around, the girl slid into the booth in front of Steve's, smiling at him brightly. "I'm Joanna. But everyone calls me Jo." She said simply. "Steve Rogers. It's nice to meet you, ma'am." Steve said, extending a hand to her. Jo gave him a funny look, a smile that was silently asking if he was joking, but she shook his hand anyway. "I'm impressed. The only people that ever shake my hands are the people that interview me for jobs." Jo laughed, a cute little laugh that made her nose crinkle and her dimples show. "I'm sorry. It's just the way I was raised." Steve said, though he wasn't sorry at all. "Don't apologize, Rogers. It's perfectly fine. It's refreshing to meet a gentleman after all these sleazy guys hanging around, you know?" She grinned at him, laughing. Steve only smiled back, not sure of what to say to that. "Joanna!" A rough male voice yelled, distracting both Steve and Jo, causing them both to turn and look at the man who was yelling. A man standing behind the bar, taller and stronger-looking than Steve, was flaring angry nostrils at Jo, glaring daggers at her. "Sorry, Steve. Gotta go." Jo said, pulling her wavy strawberry-blonde hair out of her ponytail before retying it and standing. "It was nice meeting you, Jo." Steve said, giving a small wave to her as she left.

Left in a complete trance by her upbeat attitude, Steve left the tip on the table and walked out of the diner, deciding to head to the gym merely out of habit and ritual than actually needing to get some exercise done. Brushing his blonde hair back, Steve walked into the nearly-empty gym, putting his clothes away and changing into his workout outfit, hanging up a punching bag before going to work. He stayed there, punching the thing and thinking, for nearly three hours, as people came to stare at him before becoming intimidated and walking away. As Steve stood, thinking of that fatal day when he drove the plane into the ice, an image of Jo flashed through his brain. The image of her laughing and smiling, of how scared she looked when she was called upon by that big man behind the bar. A surge of unexplainable rage zapping through him, Steve delivered that final blow that sent the punching back off the hanger and into the nearby brick wall, sand flying everywhere. Sighing regrettably, Steve picked up a new punching bag and hung it up before hitting the showers and changing back into his dayclothes.

As he walked out of the gym with his bag over his shoulder, he felt a faint smile on his lips as he thought of how he had to pass Jo's diner on his way back to his apartment. He walked happily those few blocks until he saw the diner up ahead, though by this time it was nearly seven in the evening and those early shops were already closing. Steve made his way to the diner, setting his bag down and pressing his hands and face to the window, looking into the dimmed building. There were only a few shapes moving about inside, and he could tell that none of them were Jo. Sighing dejectedly, Steve bent to pick up his gym bag when he heard a frantic and pained yelp coming from the alleyway in between the diner and the pawn shop beside it. Already reacting to the sound of danger, Steve sprinted to the alley, shocked to see Jo struggling to get away from the man that had yelled at her earlier. He had her by the wrist and was nearly lifting her off of her feet, yelling obscene and mean things at her with complete rage in his eyes. "Let her go." Steve said firmly, stepping into the alley. Jo's head snapped around to look at him, a mixture of joy and fear on her face when she recognized him. "Rogers! Go get the police or something!" Jo yelled, tears stinging her eyes. The man holding her shook her violently, and she yelped again like a helpless puppy.

"I'm only going to say it one more time, buddy. Let her go." Steve repeated, stepping closer to a trashcan on his right side. "This doesn't concern you." The man told him gruffly, pushing Jo against the wall of the diner. Steve gripped the handle of a trashcan's lid, ready to pull it off at any moment. "It does concern me." Steve argued. "She's stealin' my food and harassin' my customers. This got nothin' to do with you." The man yelled, pulling a knife from his pocket. He stood in front of Jo, blocking her exit. "I wasn't harassing anyone! I can't talk to anyone without you saying I'm harassing them!" Jo yelled from behind him, standing up to face him. Quicker than lightning, the man spun around and hit Jo across the face with the back of his hand, sending her flying across the alley and into the wall. Jo let out a grunt as she fell to the floor, unsconscious. Unable to handle it any longer, Steve threw the trashcan lid at the man with everything he had, hitting him dead on in the chest. The man grunted unpleasantly, staggering back but not falling. Grabbing a nearby crate, the man let out a furious growl and threw the crate at Steve, who easily dodged it and charged at the man. Before hitting him, Steve stooped and picked up the trashcan lid, using it as a shield in place of the one he was used to, giving the man a rough uppercut and sending him tumbling back onto the dirty floor of the alley.

Steve towered above the man, who was now cowering and trying his hardest to stay away from Steve and the trashcan lid. "Who the hell are you?" The man said, trying to sound mean and angry, but failing to hide his quivering voice. "I'm just a kid from Brooklyn." Steve answered simply. "But I'm a friend of Jo's. And if you ever accuse her or anyone else of doing anything they didnt, I'll make sure something real bad happens to you." He added, silently cursing himself for not coming up with any better comebacks. Giving one last glare at the man, he dropped the trashcan lid and bent and picked up Jo in his arms, carrying her to his apartment and setting her down on his bed, remembering vaguely what his mother had said to him so many years ago: If a lady invites you into her room, she isn't much of a lady. Smiling faintly, Steve went to the kitchen and prepared a cup of hot chocolate before returning to the room, surprised to see her standing by his desk, looking at a file...

Nearly dropping the cup of hot cocoa, Steve rushed across the room and placed a hand over the file, shutting it quickly. "Glad to see you're up and at 'em. I was worried about you, ma'am." Steve grinned, a bit nervously. "Who's Margaret?" Jo asked, looking up at Steve with a curious expression in her eyes, one of complete innocence, one lacking judgement. Before he could even stop himself or think of what he was doing, Steve had bent his head slightly, pressing his lips against hers softly. He pulled away after a few seconds, looking at her with a bewildered expression on his face. "Steve... how old are you?" Jo asked, though she still didn't seem to be judging him. They still stood only inches apart, her breath warm on his lips, her eyelids half shut. "That's a long story." Steve said quietly. "It's a good thing I've got time, then." Jo answered just as softly, pressing her lips to his again.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve and Jo both sat around the tiny round table in Steve's apartment, an awkward, pregnant silence hanging between them. Well, it was awkward for Steve. He'd just spilled everything about him—from his birth in the last century, and all about Peggy and Howard Stark, and all about him being frozen and discovered as, using Tony Stark's words, a Capsicle. Steve had hesitated before telling Jo about the Battle of New York, wondering if maybe she'd think of him differently if she knew he was a hero, but as he told her about his adventures with the Avengers, she listened avidly, not saying a word, hardly a muscle moving on her face. She merely sat there, sipping the hot chocolate Steve had brought her, clinging onto every word he said.

And now that he was done, she still sipped the last of her hot chocolate, gazing across the table at him with a thoughtful, puzzled look in her eye. Steve propped his elbows on the table, putting his head in his hands and looking down, blue eyes weary with worry. What if she thought of him as an entirely different person because of this? What if she idolized him like everyone else? Surely, Steve adored everyone that adored him, and he was thankful for them, but he wanted a friend—not a fan. He sucked in a few shaky breaths before exhaling, thinking of what to say to break the silence. Apparently, he didn't need to, because Jo spoke first. "I should've known you were Captain America." She said with a nod of her head, which sent her strawberry blonde curls bouncing. "You looked oddly familiar. I mean, I know you wear the mask at all, but you've got one fine jawline. I'd recognize it anywhere."

Steve felt himself smiling and blushing simultaneously, and the thought of it made him laugh lightly. "I mean, yeah, I get the whole protection and protecting-the-identity thing, but do you heroes really think we won't recognize the half of your face that isn't covered, let alone your voice?" Jo teased, leaning across the table and giving him a gentle punch. Steve pretended to feel it. "Look, Johanna, I completely understand if you don't feel the same about me, or if you cant look at me the same anymore. I guess I could understand where you're coming from." Steve nodded to himself, looking up at her and giving a truly fake smile, trying to encourage her to tell the truth. Jo got a funny look on her face, and she tipped her head back and laughed heartedly before pushing her chair back and standing. She walked over to Steve, bending slightly and rubbing his back soothingly.

"Steve, honey, I wouldn't think any differently of you if you told me you were a murderer. Okay, that was a lie. But you're not a murderer, so I don't think any differently of you." She said soothingly. Steve smiled despite his efforts not to. "And honestly, I do think differently of you, and I think you're really cool—but not for the reason you think. I think differently of you because you told me the truth, and because you pretty much saved my life." Jo said, sitting on the table in front of him. She placed a finger under Steve's chin, tipping his head up so that his blue eyes met her sea green eyes. "I think of how easily you could've kept walking and left me to fend for myself in that alley. I think of how, when you brought me here, you could've done bad things to me. I think of how, when I snooped around and found your papers, you could've yelled. I think of how you could've easily lied to me and said they were all fake, or part of some RPG." She continued.

Steve's brows knit together in utter confusion. "I—sorry, but—what's a, uh, RPG?" Steve asked. Jo got a funny look on her face, and she smiled and smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. "Sorry. I keep forgetting you're from a completely different era. It's, well, sort of, basically, a game. I guess." Jo muttered, biting her lip. "It's a geek thing. My brother plays them. I'll have him explain to you if I ever see him when he doesn't have school."

Steve could only nod. "Well, anyway. You are honest. And you are true. And you are pure. I think you're absolutely amazing, Steve Rogers, and truly, I'm in your debt for all the things you've done for me today." She said, moving closer to him, so that their faces were only inches apart. Gently, teasingly, she brushed her lips against his in a gentle kiss before pulling away with a smirk on her face. "So, is there anything—anything at all—you want me to do for you?" She asked, her voice low and sultry. Steve blushed bright, tomato red, and his heart sped up. Flustered, he searched his mind for something to say, but it had all gone blank.

"You could go on a date with me." Steve whispered softly, impressed at his ability to stop himself from stuttering or stammering nervously. Jo giggled, a sweet, tinny sound that was like music to Steve's ears. "A date? Sure. But, not tonight. It's Sunday, and I've got work tomorrow." Jo muttered. At the sound of the word "work," Steve's memories rushed back to him. Furrowing his eyebrows together in confusion and determination, Steve pushed himself up and walked to the kitchenette, looking at the tiny calendar there on the fridge. "Damn it, I've got work tomorrow." He muttered.

"Work? You mean there's a schedule for defending the world from aliens or whatever?" Jo asked, sliding off the table. She walked over to join him, and together they gazed at the big red letters on the calendar. MEET-UP. "What's a meet-up?" Jo asked, a confused look on her face. Steve thought it was genuinely adorable. He kept that thought to himself. "It's something Tony thought of. Every few weeks, we all get together just to check in." Steve glanced at Jo, before looking back at the calendar. "Would you like to come with me?"

Jo froze, but there was a wide, excited grin on her face. "You'd actually take me to work with you? Well, considering I'm your girlfriend now…" Jo grinned. Steve felt himself blush, and he turned to her and smiled as he wrapped his arms around her in a gentle, loving hug. A girlfriend. Never before had he ever had a girlfriend… other than Peggy. Jo hesitated in confusion, before her arms came up around him. She was small and tiny in his arms, but they fit together perfectly, and the way she leaned into him, completely trusting, and vulnerable… it made him smile and adore her even more.

"You're amazing, Steve Rogers." Jo whispered, burrowing her face in his chest. "As are you." Steve answered quietly, resting his chin on the top of her head. She giggled and pulled away from him, standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "I don't think I want to go home tonight. Mind if I stay over?" She asked, glancing at the clock. It was already nearing nighttime. "I think I'll take the day off work tomorrow, too."

Steve's cheeks tinted light pink at the thought of her in his bed, but since all he wanted to do was rest up for what was sure to be a stressful day at SHIELD, Steve nodded. "I'll go get the bed ready. There's clothes in the dresser over there if you need anything to sleep in." Steve nodded in the direction of his dresser, before pecking her lightly on the cheek and heading to the bedroom. He pulled the thick yellow comforter back, folding it neatly and evenly dispersing the four pillows. Vaguely, he wondered what side she'd sleep on. Seeing as how he'd never slept with anyone and always slept in the middle of the bed, he couldn't really make a prediction. He stood there, gazing at the bed and thinking of how he might kick in his sleep, until a soft padding of footsteps on carpet shuddered him out of his thoughts.

"I call the right side." Jo said softly, standing in the doorway. Steve looked at her, his jaw nearly dropping and his heartbeat accelerating quickly as he looked at her. It felt indecent, yet so right. Jo was standing, curvy and beautiful, wearing nothing but her maroon panties and Steve's baggy old military shirt. Her wavy hair was loose around her shoulders, cascading in a beautiful honey waterfall, color rushing to her cheeks. "I hope you don't mind I'm wearing this shirt. It smells like you." She said softly, her green eyes glowing brightly with energy and joy. "I don't mind at all." Steve said, busying himself with removing his shirt and pulling on his pajama bottoms, sliding into the left side of the bed.

Jo smiled, making her way across the room almost silently, climbing sinuously into the right side of the bed. She bunched up the bedsheets, making somewhat of a cocoon around her. With a small smile, she inched closer and closer to Steve, until she was pressed up against his bare chest. "Goodnight." Jo whispered gently. Steve lay on his side, running his fingers through her hair, soothing them both to sleep.

"Goonight, Johanna."


End file.
